


Seams and Scars

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (it's brainwashing), ...sort of, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Clint Barton, Brainwashing, Clint Barton & Loki Friendship, Gen, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel)'s Lips Sewn Shut, POV Clint Barton, is it real loyalty or is it brainwashing, pretty sure i got this prompt like four years ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-19 08:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20328061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: When Loki comes through the Tesseract portal, he doesn't say anything about Asgard, or ants, or hearts. He doesn't say anything at all. (With his lips sewn shut like that, how could he?)This changes more than you'd think.





	Seams and Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Seams and Scars (Швы и Шрамы)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24388633) by [Summer__child](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer__child/pseuds/Summer__child)

> I don't even want to know how long its been since I started writing this fic. A long time. [Lena](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com) gave me a prompt for it, once upon a time, when I was asking for whump ideas, and then it developed a plot, and then I got stuck in a hole where I didn't know how to end it, and then I had to actually write the rest of the damn thing, and...anyway, at _long last_ here it is. Not the fic that's taken me longest to write from start to finish, but it's up there.
> 
> I'm not _planning_ on writing a sequel, here, but we all know how my plans go.
> 
> With immense thanks to [Amelia](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), who keeps reminding me how much I love writing these two, and to readers like you, who make it worth picking up projects that take me four to five years to finish.

Staring at the figure kneeling, bathed in blue light, Clint’s fingers itched for his bow. He couldn’t have said why – his gun was in hand, and a bow wouldn’t be effective here – but the itch was there all the same as the figure rose, slowly, some kind of staff or spear in hand.

“Sir,” Fury said, “put down the spear.”

He uncurled like a snake, rising to his full height. His eyes were pale, set in a greyish face, thin and drawn, but that wasn’t what made Clint suck in a breath through his teeth.

Eight black lines cut vertically across the line of his mouth. There was blood on his chin and when his eyes swept across Clint he could see madness in them. Clint could feel the collective shudder in the room. Selvig made a small noise like he might vomit.

“Sir,” Fury repeated, his voice steady, “I’m going to ask one more time: put the spear down.”

This time he seemed to hear. He looked at Fury, and then at the spear. There was a jewel in it glowing oddly, something that drew Clint’s eye.

“Get down!” Clint shouted, the moment before the newcomer moved in eerie silence, a bolt of light shooting from that strange blue jewel that sheared through metal where Fury had been standing a moment before. He ignored the bullets flying at him like they were nothing, and none seemed to be leaving a mark; Clint saw two knives sprout from his comrades’ throats.

Clint thought for sure he was going to die when he was slammed against the wall and those washed out, grey-green eyes met his. Clint’s eyes fixed on those gruesome black lines trickling blood. Stitches, he realized. He could see the knots. See the notch of a scar where one had torn through.

_Who the hell does that? _he remembered thinking, which was the last thought of his own he had before he set the spear to Clint’s heart and remade him in his image.

* * *

With the gift of loyalty, clarity, Clint gained the knowledge of his master’s name, as clear in his mind as if it had been spoken. Loki. Loki was the new center of his world, the pivot around which all things turned. Loki, who burned with pain and rage and determination. Who flinched from too-quick movements.

They stopped at a motel, that first night, and smuggled Loki into a room. Clint sent Jansey and Huntsman on ahead, to start making contacts and to look for a more permanent base of operations. When he went back into the room, Loki had opened the briefcase and was staring at the Tesseract, the light reflecting oddly on his face.

He closed it a moment after. Clint looked at Selvig. “Find someplace to get some water, maybe a smoothie,” he said. “Bandages, gauze, and nail scissors, too.” He studied Selvig’s face. “Your eyes will draw attention so try to keep eye contact to a minimum.”

“Who put you in charge?” Selvig demanded. “You’re the muscle, you run the errands.”

“Exactly,” Clint said. “I’m the muscle. So I need to stay here and protect the boss. And the Tesseract,” he added, something of an afterthought.

Loki was watching them silently. Intently. Clint couldn’t read his face but the sense at the back of his head was of…focus, underneath the layers of pain. Clint thought he might be screaming if _he_ was feeling that much pain.

His eyes moved to Selvig, slowly, and he nodded. The stubbornness melted from Erik’s face and he was all eagerness, _yes sir of course right away_. Clint stared after him, a little disgruntled, but only for a moment.

“I’m gonna get those off as soon as he gets back,” he promised Loki. “Who the fuck put those on you? I’ll kill ‘em if you point me in their direction.”

The corner of Loki’s eyes crinkled like he was laughing, but his lips didn’t twitch and there was no real mirth in his expression. Clint’s skin crawled.

“Do you want me to get you something to write with? So you can communicate with me until then?”

Loki made a peculiar gesture, and Clint handed him a pad of paper and a pen.

_This is irrelevant,_ he wrote. His hand was scrawling, someone who wrote often and needed to do it fast. _You should be at work recruiting. _Clint flinched, but shook his head.

“I’m in the right place,” he said. “This is where you want me, so this is where I should be.”

Erik returned. He threw Clint one of the plastic bags and Clint fished out the nail scissors and gauze, bringing them over to Loki.

He held up the nail scissors. “I can take those – _things _out, now. We’ll have to be careful, but I’ve got a steady hand. Let me help you?”

Loki blinked at him slowly and Clint almost held his breath. It seemed to take him a long time to nod, and Clint heard Selvig exhale with him.

He positioned himself carefully, the gauze resting on his knee while he held Loki’s jaw steady with one gentle hand and brought the scissors carefully up to the center stitch, lining them up where they would cut the cord and nothing else.

It wouldn’t cut. Clint squeezed, but the blades wouldn’t close and the thread didn’t so much as quiver. Clint pulled back, staring at what looked like ordinary black cord with his stomach roiling.

Loki didn’t seem surprised. Just disappointed. And there was no way they could get even a straw through the gaps between the stitches, even if Loki could open his mouth at all for it.

Anger burned up hot and sudden and Clint growled. “You need to eat,” he said.

Loki picked up the pad. _It seems my masters disagree. _Clint’s jaw clenched hard enough to crack his teeth.

“_Masters_?”

Something flickered across Loki’s face. Clint thought it might be annoyance, but it didn’t seem to be with him. More like he’d said something he shouldn’t have. He set the pad aside and rose, gliding smoothly out the door before Clint or Selvig could stop him.

Selvig rounded on Clint. “I thought you were going to do something about that – _travesty._”

“I can’t,” Clint snapped back. “The cord won’t cut. You’re welcome to try when he comes back, if you can stop ogling that cube long enough.” He scowled at the pad. “He says his _masters _did it to him.”

Selvig looked at the pad, then the door. “What?” He said. Clint rocked back on his heels.

“You know something.”

“I don’t _know _anything,” Selvig said. “Not for certain. But his name is Loki.”

“I know,” Clint said, exasperated. “Meaning what?”

“You were in New Mexico, you didn’t read anything about…of course you didn’t.” Clint held back the urge to throw something at Selvig’s forehead. Their master needed him. “There are myths. And there’s one where…” Selvig gestured at his mouth, his eyes cutting nervously toward the door.

“Myths,” Clint said flatly, but, well… “Who did it to him?”

“His own people,” Selvig said. Clint thought back to the guy in New Mexico – Thor. Big guy, good fighter. SHIELD classified him as a possible ally.

“Sound like nice folks,” Clint said grimly. Selvig shook his head.

“I don’t know. Nothing in those books is quite right.”

_Nothing about _this _is quite right, _Clint thought sourly. He wished he knew where Loki had gone. If he was allowed to follow. He should be there with his master, helping him.

_Helping how? You couldn’t even cut a piece of thread._

When Loki did not return after a fairly substantial period of time, Clint followed him out. He wasn’t standing out front – that was a relief, given how much he would stand out – but when Clint circled around the back he didn’t see him either. Just as his heart was starting to pound the air seemed to waver and Loki appeared, cradling the scepter in his lap and ashen faced. He swayed, and Clint hurried over, dropping to his knees and reaching out to steady him. The moment he made contact, Loki’s hand was around his throat.

Clint went quickly limp. “Boss,” he said. “It’s me.” He could still talk, which was good. Loki could’ve snapped his neck in a second if he wanted to. Loki blinked, eyes focusing on him slowly, but even after recognition dawned it took him a moment longer to release Clint’s neck. He looked down immediately, eyes on the pavement.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t’ve touched you. That was out of line.”

Loki shook his head slowly. One of his hands had a white-knuckle grip around the scepter, and Clint glanced at it, and Loki’s mouth. Some fresh blood trickled from the punctures above and below his lips, and Clint felt a surge of anger again.

“You say the word,” he said, “and I _will_ kill the sons of bitches doing this to you, boss. Whatever they’ve got on you, it’s not worth it.”

Loki looked at him and for a moment Clint thought he’d overstepped, but then Loki reached out and touched his face, very lightly. Clint sucked in a breath, his skin tingling, and he didn’t dare move in case it made him pull away. The shadowed, haunted look on Loki’s face didn’t lift, but Clint felt some of the tension bleed out of him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get rid of those things,” Clint said, heartfelt. “I will figure out a way to do it. All right? I’m not going to let this go.”

He caught, maybe, the faint shadow of a smile in Loki’s eyes before he turned and strode back inside. Clint followed only a moment behind, still troubled. Loyalty demanded obedience. But loyalty also demanded that he protect his master from the people who had mutilated him and were still, evidently, hurting him. It wasn’t his to question, and even _thinking _it was hard, but-

Maybe something held Loki to whoever had stitched his mouth shut, some oath or debt or fear. But Clint didn’t give a rat’s ass about them. His priority was Loki. The mission, sure, but he could multitask.

There was a nagging voice at the back of his head that murmured _and maybe once he’s free he won’t need you anymore. What then?_

But that wasn’t what mattered.

Inside, Selvig was poring over something Loki was writing with rapt fascination, both of them ignoring Clint completely. He sat down to start making calls.

* * *

One of the agents Clint brought in took one look at Loki and said, “we’re supposed to take orders from a guy who can’t talk?”

The red smear that was left of him seemed to convince everyone else to listen just fine. Loki vanished not long after, though, and Clint went looking for him and found him with his fingers hovering over his lips like he wanted to touch and was afraid to, his eyes half wild. Clint could feel the fury rolling through him, and underneath it the fear.

“Why would they do this to you?” he asked, the anger Loki was feeling echoed in Clint’s voice. Loki just looked at him, eyes flat. Clint made a disgusted noise. “Fucking _monsters._ As soon as we’re done, I’m going to hunt them down and make them pay.”

Loki’s expression flickered, but Clint felt the rage, at least, ebb a little. He realized a moment later how dangerous what he’d just said might be – but Loki didn’t seem to care. The mission, he reminded himself. The mission required cooperation with these mysterious figures who wanted something and were - his thoughts tripped over the word _using _– Loki to get it.

They didn’t care if he was hurt, or couldn’t eat. They saw him as expendable. Clint had done a few jobs like that before, and invariably they’d all ended with his employers trying to kill him after it was over. Tie off the loose end.

He thought to wonder, suddenly, if they’d silenced Loki so he couldn’t contradict them. Or implicate them.

Clint realized he was scowling and smoothed out his expression. It made something throb behind his eyes, trying to think about this, and he could tell it was a warning: _mind your own business. _His orders and Loki’s wishes tugging back and forth in contradiction.

He checked on Selvig’s progress – still staring at the Tesseract, and Clint couldn’t help but be suspicious of that cube. There was something…off, about it. Clint moved on quickly, looking for Loki, and found him sitting in an out of the way corner, bent forward, his shoulders shuddering slightly.

Clint froze, glancing over his shoulder, but they were alone. “Sir?” He said cautiously, and Loki jerked upright, his eyes wide and wild. Clint stayed where he was, ducking his head out of some prey instinct.

Loki picked up his pad of paper after a moment and wrote _what is it? _His handwriting was steady even though Clint could feel the renewed pulse of pain from the knot of awareness at the back of his mind.

“Nothing,” Clint said. “Just checking in. Things are progressing well.” He shifted. “I still don’t like the plan. It puts you in too much danger.”

_I need to be there. In their midst, to cripple them. _Loki set down the pad and pressed his fingers to his temples. His jaw worked carefully. There was some fresh blood on Loki’s chin and Clint felt the urge to wipe it away. He walked over slowly and knelt down.

“It’s not too late to change course,” he heard himself say. “These people, whoever they are – they don’t own you. We can break off. Get those things off your mouth – hate to say it, but maybe Stark has something that’d work.”

For just a second, Loki hesitated. Then he shook his head, and stood. _Hold to the intended course, _he wrote, and then paused and added, _for now._

Clint didn’t like that answer any more than he liked sending his master to the lion’s den of SHIELD. But it wasn’t really up to him. At some point he just had to trust, and obey.

* * *

The first stage of the plan went off without a hitch. They retrieved the iridium, and Clint was sitting in the truck with his knee bouncing, watching Selvig tinker, when the tension and ever-present pain that was Loki exploded like a nuclear bomb.

He was on his feet before he chose to be there, and Selvig stopped and turned west as well.

“Something’s gone wrong,” Clint said with sudden certainty. “I need to go.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” said one of the soldiers with them. Clint gave him one look and the man backed down, but he couldn’t just jump out of the truck. He needed a car, a plane, _something. _All he knew was that Loki’s panic and rage was beating at him like a club and he needed to go to him.

Now.

“We’re sticking to the plan,” he said. “Just advancing it by a couple hours. Give me…” He did some quick calculations. Whatever was going on with Loki, he wanted to make sure he had the time to get him out of it before the explosions started. “Give me an hour, then follow. I’ll take care of my end. Can you handle that?”

He didn’t really need to be that harsh. They’d obey, out of fear if nothing else. But Clint didn’t like them, didn’t trust them. He glanced at Selvig again, who looked torn.

“Stay in the truck,” Clint said. “Keep working. I can handle it.”

“You’d better,” Selvig said, but he turned back to his pet cube without arguing.

Loki, Clint thought as he took off in a boosted car, letting the pull at the back of his mind guide him, was going to be pissed. That thought almost made him quail and turn back, but the fear and pain was stronger. Loki’s fear and pain, and right now the drive to protect was overriding the drive to obey.

* * *

The old passcode still worked. Clint landed the plane and dropped down to the deck. He had to dispatch two agents before he could get belowdecks and start working his way through maintenance corridors to where he knew Loki would be. There was only one place on the helicarrier Fury would keep him.

Other than the two agents, he avoided the guards. If anyone found bodies it would just raise the alarm, and Clint needed to make sure he got to Loki first. He heard voices as he approached, though, and slowed. He recognized Fury’s immediately. The other guy’s sounded familiar too.

“--obviously not going to get any answers out of him like this.” That was Natasha. When had they called _Natasha _in? “Even if he wanted to talk, he can’t.”

“We must free him,” said the vaguely familiar voice. Clint felt a spike of panic that wasn’t his. “Give me a small blade and I will-”

Clint almost turned and ran before realizing that the urge wasn’t _his, _and if he was feeling it that strongly...he shoved it to the back of his mind. _Focus on the mission, _he thought. Extracting Loki was the priority.

He wasn’t going to be able to get to him from here. Certainly not when there were other people around - almost certainly Fury’s squad of superheroes. He needed to get them away from Loki first, like the initial plan had called for.

The initial plan, where Loki had said he’d get himself out. But something had changed, clearly - that _terror _still screaming in the back of Clint’s head, telling him he needed to get out, _right now. _Anger, too. Something unexpected had happened, gone wrong with the plan, and it was Clint’s job to make sure Loki still got out in one piece.

He had his explosive arrows. He pictured the layout of the helicarrier, the blueprints he’d glanced over. Clint’s memory wasn’t as good as Natasha’s, but it was good enough.

_Give me ten minutes, sir, _he thought, wondering if somehow Loki would know he was here, would hear him and know...he was going to be so angry that Clint had stepped out of line. Might punish him. Kill him.

Fine. As long as he got out of here, and away from whatever was scaring him. Loki didn’t need _him _(_yes he does, _protested a childish voice that wanted it to be true). He had other servants. And once Selvig finished his work…

He set an explosive arrow and ran. It wasn’t as good as blowing up the engine, but hopefully it would be good enough as a distraction, especially combined with the one on the other side that he triggered about thirty seconds later, already heading up and out, making a beeline back toward Loki’s location as the alarm started blaring.

When Clint got there, Loki was already free, and alone. His head jerked around when Clint entered; there was fresh blood on his chin, trickling from a couple of the stitches, and something vicious and animal in his eyes.

Clint froze, and dropped his eyes. “Sir,” he said, just the one word before his voice died. He swallowed hard. “I felt...something went wrong. Didn’t it? Something unexpected…”

He heard Loki’s soft steps approaching, his hand grasping Clint’s chin and forcing his eyes up. Clint stared at him, caught and held by the intensity of Loki’s gaze, impossible to read, assessing him. Weighing him. He waited, holding his breath, to be found wanting and struck down.

It didn’t happen. Not immediately, anyway, and Clint could feel their time ticking away.

“Can you get out of here?” Clint asked, his voice rough. The look Loki gave him wavered between dismayed and grateful, and settled on iron. He jerked his head in a nod.

“Then let’s go,” Clint said. Loki’s nostrils flared and he turned back toward the center of the ship, stalking off. The alarm was still screaming, and Clint followed him. “Sorry, sir, but we need to get out fast. Leave the scepter. We still have the Tesseract.”

Loki paused and turned. Clint tensed, realizing that he’d stepped out of line...twice. Once in coming here at all, contravening orders. And now he was trying to _give _orders.

But something was _wrong _with that thing. He wanted Loki away from it.

Loki’s eyes narrowed at him. He was tense, like he was both about to run and about to lash out, and Clint waited to see which way he went. But– in for a penny. “You don’t need it,” he said. “And there’s not time-”

Loki made a sound like a snarl and seized Clint’s arm. Something twisted, like the world turning inside out, and they were standing in a lab with the scepter on the ground. Loki let him go as Clint caught himself on a table, picked it up, inspected the glowing blue stone, and turned back toward Clint. There was a wild look in his eyes, a - _desperation._

Clint could hear running feet approaching. Shouting. Ordinary agents wouldn’t stand in Loki’s way for long, but if they stalled him long enough for Stark to arrive in his armor, or Rogers, or the Hulk…

Next time they wouldn’t settle for just putting Loki in a box.

“You go,” Clint said. The alarms were blaring. “_Move, _boss.” Loki didn’t move and Clint fought the urge to push him _bodily _away. “You need to get out of here,” he said. “I’ll stall, hold them off while you get the fuck out. You don’t need me for the rest of the plan-” It hurt, like something physical, to say that. “-and I’ll be fine.”

Or he wouldn’t. But this was important. _Loki _was important. He couldn’t let him get caught again.

His boss’s eyes went far away for a moment. Then he lowered his chin, just barely. _Yes._ Clint let out an explosive breath, even if some stupid part of him felt like he was pulling out his own heart. He was being cut loose. (He was serving Loki the best way he could.) “Okay,” he said. “Okay, good. You know the way out from here, right? I’ll keep them busy as long as I can, but still - move fast. And I won’t–” He raised his chin. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell them anything.”

Loki stared at him a long moment, then moved, fast and sudden. He cupped Clint’s head in one hand, and with the other–

For the second time, the tip of the scepter touched his chest and power washed into him, searing and blue and this time he welcomed it, embraced it.

When it was stripped away, all at once, Clint thought he must have screamed. He wasn’t certain, though, because he stopped being able to think anything at all.

* * *

Clint woke up cuffed to a cot on the helicarrier. His head pounded and he felt like his brain had been through a blender.

“Nat?” He said, because he couldn’t remember what had happened, exactly, and he knew she would tell him if he asked.

“Clint,” she said, and the naked relief in her voice was so obvious it was terrifying. “You’re back.”

“Back?” Clint said blankly, and then remembered, with the force of a tidal wave slamming into him. His loyalties, his heart and mind twisted inside out, reshaped, he remembered the _worry, _the _concern, _the determined conviction that he was doing the right thing–

“I’m going to be sick,” he said. Natasha grabbed a trash can just in time. There was nothing in his stomach to puke up, but his body tried anyway.

“It’s okay,” Natasha said, her hand landing lightly on his shoulder. “Clint. You’re fine. You’re back.”

“Are you sure?” Clint asked, his voice raw. “How do you know? How do you know it’s not a trick?”

Even as he said it, though, Clint _did _know. His memories might be confused, but he remembered Loki stripping the magic out of him. On purpose. He hadn’t freed himself, or been broken loose. Loki had released him.

Why?

“He’s gone, isn’t he,” Clint said hoarsely.

Natasha’s expression spasmed. “Yes,” she said. “He slipped away in the confusion.”

“After I freed him.” Clint squeezed his eyes closed. Fuck. _Fuck. _His thoughts were spinning and he kept coming back to that question: why? Why let him go? Why let him go _then?_

_You don’t need me for the rest of the plan, _he remembered saying. Was that it? But that didn’t make any sense either.

“Clint,” Natasha said slowly. “I’m sorry to ask, but...if you know anything about what Loki’s planning, we really need to know.”

“He didn’t tell me much,” Clint forced out. His skin started crawling. He’d been so willing, so _eager _to serve. To _help. _Not just obey orders but actively…

He thought of those first few hours, the knot of pain in the back of Clint’s mind that was what Loki was feeling, the humming tension, and shoved all of it aside. Like hell he was going to feel sorry for him now. After what he’d done, after taking over Clint’s head like he had, using him like a fucking puppet…

And he’d let Clint go. Why would he _do _that? It didn’t make any damned _sense._

“Anything you know,” Natasha said. “Clint, I wouldn’t ask if things weren’t dire, but for obvious reasons we didn’t get anything out of him while he was here.”

The line of stitches across his mouth. Right. Clint’s stomach lurched again. “Get me a piece of paper,” he said hoarsely. “If you feel okay about uncuffing me...it’ll be easier to write it all down.” He swallowed hard. “Nat...he let me go.”

Silence. “Let you go?”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “The...power, the magic or whatever he was using to control me. He took it back. Maybe as a, a distraction–”

But he’d been prepared to offer a distraction. Had offered. A living, fighting, one. Much more of a deterrent than an unconscious and deprogrammed one.

“Do you think it’s some kind of trap?” Natasha asked.

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” Clint said. But he didn’t think so. For some reason...he didn’t think that was it.

_Not going to get any answers out of him like this, _said Natasha.

_What if they did this to him so he couldn’t speak against them, _he’d thought.

“Something weird is going on here,” Clint said quietly, dropping his hands.

Natasha let out a humorless sound. “All of this is weird,” she said. “This is - aliens and gods and magic. It’s not exactly in our job description, and until a year ago it wasn’t even in our _reality._”

_That’s not what I mean, _Clint thought, but she wasn’t wrong, either, and he still felt sick and twisted up and was trying not to ask how many people had died in the attack. How many people he’d gotten killed while he was trying to serve the will of a god who’d gotten in his head and remade him into…

It’d be better if Clint could claim Loki had made him into someone he didn’t recognize, but that wasn’t true.

The door opened and Clint jerked up, the cuffs holding him to the bed jerking him back down. Steve Rogers - Captain fucking _America - _poked his head in and glanced from Natasha to Clint.

“We think we know where he’s going,” he said.

“Get these cuffs off me and I’m coming with,” Clint said. Cap glanced at Natasha, who nodded, barely.

“Suit up,” he said. “We’re leaving in five.”

* * *

The whole way to New York, Clint couldn’t stop thinking about it, his head spinning in circles. Trying to fit the pieces together, trying to figure out why, why, _why. _He wanted to dismiss all of it. Wanted to cave to the part of his brain that was screaming for Loki’s blood, that wanted to put an arrow through his eye (or wanted to run ten miles in the other direction).

_He let me go. He took it back. _

Why? Why do that?

At least he knew why the terror. Thor had come back, apparently, though Loki had dropped him out of the helicarrier. Natasha thought he was probably dead; Clint doubted it, though he couldn’t have said for sure why. Maybe because Loki hadn’t believed it.

Loki.

_Hold to the intended course. For now. _He’d written that, when Clint had proposed changing tack, asking for help. Turning on the shadowy masters who had stitched his mouth shut, who’d hurt him somehow from a distance. _For now. _

Someone had Loki under their thumb. He’d let Clint go, knowing everything he knew. He could’ve killed him, or wiped his mind, or…

“Nat,” Clint said quietly, “I think he’s sabotaging them.”

Natasha glanced at him sideways. “Sorry?”

“Loki,” Clint said. He stumbled a little over saying his name. “I think he’s...there were people he was talking to. Psychically, or something. He called them his ‘masters.’ And I think he’s trying to sabotage them without looking like that’s what he’s doing.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “How the hell is trying to trigger Banner to Hulk out on the helicarrier and opening a wormhole over Manhattan sabotage?”

_He hates them. And he let me go. _Even in his head it sounded thin. “I just think…I have a feeling.” Nat was looking at him with her brow furrowed, like she thought he might be going crazy. Clint gritted his teeth. “I know. I _know _how it sounds, but…” Fuck. “Can you tell Stark to hold off? I want to talk to him.”

“To Tony?” Natasha said. She sounded almost hopeful.

“No,” Clint said. “To...to Loki.” Fuck. If he was wrong...even if he was right. Just because Loki had let him walk away? Could have just been some idea of mercy, or his one good deed for the decade, or...fuck if he knew. The guy was insane.

He was also desperate. Hurting. Backed into a corner.

Clint had been there. Once upon a time, Coulson had shown him the way out.

“Clint,” Natasha said.

“Nat,” Clint interrupted. “Please. I need to…do this.” Maybe it was some kind of implanted thought. Or a trap.

But if he didn’t try, he was always going to wonder.

Natasha stared straight ahead for a long time, silent. Then she reached out, punched in a number, and said, “Tony, hold back from approach. There’s been a change in plans.”

* * *

Clint went up from the ground. Took the elevator, and clenched his fists at his sides to keep his hands from shaking. That didn’t stop the rest of him, though.

_You can still back out. _What was he thinking? What did he think he was going to do, have a calm, reasonable conversation with an insane alien who couldn’t even talk back? Loki would probably run him through the second he saw him. Or worse.

_Lost your fucking mind, Barton. That’s all there is to it._

The elevator climbed. Clint fought for control of his breathing and tried to plan what he was going to say. He was running on instinct, here. Guesses, suspicions. Bits and pieces of memories hazed in blue, and there so many, _many _ways he could be wrong.

But something kept telling him he wasn’t.

The elevator _ding_ed and Clint rolled his shoulders back. _Well, it’s been a good run, _he thought ruefully, his heart beating like a drum.

“Clint?” Natasha’s voice was slightly tinny in his ear.

“I’m here,” he said. “Wish me luck.”

And stepped out. He could see Loki through the glass windows, out on the platform, gazing out at the city. Couldn’t see the portal in progress. Swallowing hard, he started walking up the stairs; the automatic doors slid silently open and Loki turned. Clint stopped in his tracks.

He looked even paler than he had, bruise-colored circles around eyes that were fever-bright and half sane. There were streaks of blood down his chin, a fresh trickle oozing from one of the stitches as Clint looked at him.

“Hey,” he said, a little surprised that his voice came out at all. “How’s it going?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, boring into him. His grip tightened around the scepter.

“Wondering what I’m doing here?” he asked. “Me too, honestly. I think I might’ve lost my mind. I mean, I did. Or you stole it. Which - fuck you, you didn’t have any goddamn right-” Clint cut off, taking a deep breath. “And then you gave it back, and I’ve just been wondering why.”

Loki took a prowling step toward him, a predator closing in. Clint held his ground with an effort.

“I know you can’t answer that,” he said, speeding up. “So I figure - I figure I’ll guess. Those people, the ones who sewed your mouth shut, who’re in touch with you through that thing.” He gestured at the scepter. “You hate them. You’re not totally sure you want to be doing this, because you know one way or another you’re screwed.

“Either we beat you and you’re screwed, or you win and you’re screwed because they’re going to kill you when they’re done using you. You let me go because-” He took a sharp breath. “Because I put your life over following orders. And maybe you thought I’d figure it out. Maybe it was your fucked up way of seeing if someone could _help, _and that’s why you haven’t killed me yet, or taken over my mind again, or any of the other things you could’ve done by now.”

Loki was very still. His eyes bored into Clint, his face unreadable. Clint’s chest tightened. “You think you’re trapped,” he said. “You think you don’t have any options. You think - fuck, I don’t know. Maybe you still think you can thread the needle between a rock and a hard place.” _Mixed metaphor, Barton. _

_Whatever._

He could see Loki’s chest rising and falling, breathing too fast.

“I’m here, _like an idiot, _because I figure maybe it’s worth saying that you can still back down. My team is standing back. This doesn’t have to go the way your _masters _want it to.” He emphasized the word, and saw Loki twitch, the start of a snarl. One of Loki’s hands half rose like he was going to strike, and Clint just kept himself from flinching back. _Come on, you bastard. Come on and listen to me. _

_You want to. You want out, just like you wanted someone to care about you more than the mission. _

“Don’t go through with it,” Clint said harshly. “Stop playing their game. That’s the only way you get out of it. Try playing by their rules and they’ll just change ‘em on you to keep you on a leash. You start this fight like they want you to - maybe you walk out of it alive. Maybe you even win. And after that? Do you really think they’ll let you go?”

There was something hunted in Loki’s expression. An animal at bay. His nostrils flared and he took a step toward Clint, full of menace. He held his ground even if his heart was beating like it was trying to burst out of his ribcage.

“Or are you going to keep doing what they tell you?” Clint asked. “Playing their mute little puppet until they kill you?”

Loki’s eyes flashed. His lips twisted and skin tore.

“Walk away,” Clint said. “Put down that damn scepter. Call Selvig off. You let me go for a reason, didn’t you?” Nothing. “_Didn’t you?_”

A harsh, savage noise issued from Loki’s chest, and for a moment Clint thought Loki was going to drive the blade of the scepter through him, rip him open and leave him to bleed out on the floor-

Then his expression steadied. His eyes closed.

About two seconds later the anvil dropped.

So did Loki.

The sound he made was the kind of noise, Clint guessed, that someone might make if they were trying very hard to scream while their mouth was stitched closed. It looked like he was having a seizure, like…

Like someone, Clint thought, had tapped into his brain and turned on every pain signal there was. He dropped without thinking, turned Loki on his side in case he puked (or tried, shit, took an elbow in his nose for his trouble and felt it _crunch_). Staggering back before he got damaged worse by thrashing, uncontrolled, super-strength limbs, he said, “Loki’s down.”

“Down?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, staring at Loki in numb horror as he threw his head back and something cracked - the floor, but Clint didn’t know if it might be his skull next time. “I think he cut ties with whoever was giving him orders. Doesn’t look like they’re happy about it.” The scepter had fallen from Loki’s hand, but fuck if Clint was going to touch it. Or get close. “You might want to tell Thor to get here fast.”

“You sound funny.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “That’d be because he broke my nose.” It didn’t seem to be hurting as much as it should. Probably the adrenaline.

“Keep your distance,” Natasha said. “This isn’t over yet.”

Loki stopped seizing and went limp. There was blood all over his mouth and chin, and his nose had started bleeding too. He looked a little grayish. Sort of like he might be dying.

Well, _fuck. _

He might not be seizing anymore, Clint realized, but he was still sort of...quivering. His eyes were rolled back in his head so Clint could just see white between his half-closed lids. Not unconscious, though he probably wished he was.

_Don’t you dare die on me, _Clint thought. _I want to hear what you have to fucking say for yourself._

_Hey, though. Nice job saving the world, Barton. And you didn’t even have to throw a punch to do it._

Oddly, he didn’t feel that victorious. Just kind of sick to his stomach.

* * *

Loki didn’t die. It was touch and go for a while, though, based on Thor’s pacing and hovering. There weren’t exactly cells in Stark’s building, but they improvised with a blast proof room, and Thor claimed that the cuffs he placed reluctantly on Loki’s limp wrists would contain his magic. They removed the stitches while he was out using one of Stark’s lasers, and while Thor was gentle drawing the cord out of skin, it still left his mouth a bloody wreck.

Clint watched the video feed of Thor sitting next to Loki, holding his hand and bending over him, for longer than he should have before prying himself away. Natasha caught him.

“I can’t believe you pulled that off,” she said.

“Me neither,” Clint said. His voice sounded weird, nasal, but at least the Ibuprofen had kicked in.

Natasha shook her head and then, surprisingly, hugged him. “I thought you were going to get yourself killed.”

“Thanks for letting me try,” Clint said. With the adrenaline crashing, he was exhausted. Wanted to lie down and sleep for a week. He supposed that made sense; under the brainwashing he hadn’t slept at all.

“You did good,” she said. Clint made a bit of a face.

“Only had to get brainwashed to do it,” he said, more lightly than he felt. He had a feeling he was going to dream of blue. Pressing him down, changing him. Of the love and desperate need to please, Loki suddenly the center of his universe.

He took a shaky breath. “Kind of wish he’d died,” he said.

“That’s understandable.”

Clint grimaced. “I’m also...really glad he didn’t.”

Natasha cocked her head at him and seemed to be thinking. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Clint rubbed his eyes. “It’s - shit. I don’t know. I’ve been there, I guess. Doing bad shit because someone else told me to. And they didn’t have their fingers in my brain. Or sew my mouth shut.” He grimaced. “I guess I feel sorry for him.”

Natasha sighed out. “That says something good about you, doesn’t it?”

“Or else it says there’s still something of _his _left in my head.” And that was a thought that made him feel like puking. How would he _know, _anyway? How could he be sure?

“You seem normal to me,” Natasha said. “And I know you pretty well.”

“I guess.” Clint squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “So what now?”

“Thor’s taking him back to Asgard,” Natasha said. “As soon as he’s back on his feet, he said. We’ll get some pushback, probably, but I don’t think anyone’s really going to try arguing too hard with Thor.”

Clint nodded. That was a relief. He’d feel better having Loki a long, long ways from him.

And yet...he still had so many unanswered questions. Things he wanted to ask. To say.

“I want to talk to him before he goes,” he said. Natasha gave him a quick, sharp look.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Probably not,” Clint said. “But I still want to do it.”

“I can’t stop you,” Natasha said after several seconds, though she didn’t sound happy about it. “But I want it on record that I don’t think you should.”

“When’ve I ever been good at doing what I _should,_” Clint said. He knew his smile was weak, but at least Natasha let him get away with it.

* * *

It was about 24 hours before Loki woke up. The holes in his lips had started to close, but if he had to be in agony, he still refused the offer of painkillers - not that anyone knew if they’d work anyway.

And he didn’t talk. Stared at Thor, or Steve, or Natasha, looking through them with such an eerie thousand yard stare that Clint might’ve thought whatever his former masters had done had burned out his brain.

Tony suggested as much, but Thor shook his head violently.

“He is just being stubborn,” he said, with audible frustration. “I’ve seen him do this before, to spite me.”

Clint wondered if he was concerned about something else. Further punishment, maybe, if he spoke. But he just sat still, and quiet, and didn’t say a word. He ignored the food, too, even if he had to be starving. He hadn’t eaten anything since coming to Earth, after all, and Clint wasn’t placing bets he’d been well-fed before, either.

He was still too weak, Thor said, for travel by Tesseract.

Clint lay awake at night, unable to sleep except in brief snatches full of blurry nightmares. Staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts racing, and they kept circling back to Loki.

He got up and took the elevator down. He disconnected the security camera, and let himself into the room serving as Loki’s cell, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Loki was lying down, but the slight tensing told Clint that he wasn’t asleep.

“Hey,” Clint said. “It’s me again. I’d say it was nice to see you, but it’d really not.” Nothing. Loki didn’t even turn to look at him. “So are you free now? Or are they still tapped into your brain?”

That did get a look in his direction, but no other response.

“I turned off the cameras,” Clint said. “This isn’t an official interrogation. I just wanted to talk to you. Since I didn’t get the chance to do that when you had me brainwashed.” Loki’s eyes narrowed, and Clint added, “I think you owe me that much. I just want to know _why._”

Loki’s jaw worked, but he still didn’t say anything.

“Why’d you take me?” Clint asked doggedly. “Out of everyone in that facility - you could’ve killed me. And why did you let me go on the helicarrier?” He paused, and said, “and what are you going to do now?”

Silence. Clint waited. He could be patient. A lot of his job involved waiting.

“Does it matter?”

Even though he’d been waiting for it, Loki’s voice still took him by surprise. It sounded like his throat was full of gravel, rough and strained. Clint stopped himself from wincing. Even though he’d never heard it before, even distorted by disuse, it somehow felt familiar. Like he knew that voice, in his bones.

“Yeah,” Clint said, keeping his voice even and hoping his shock didn’t show. “It matters. That’s why I asked.”

“Thor will bring me back to Asgard. There I expect the All-Father will have me executed.”

It must hurt to talk. Sounded like it, anyway. How long had it been since he’d gotten the chance? Stupidly, Clint felt a bit of a thrill: Loki was talking to him. To _him, _not anyone else.

Even more stupidly, he was disappointed by the answer. Executed. It was what he should want, but Clint didn’t like the idea. “What, no trial?”

Loki laughed, awfully. It really did sound like it hurt. “No.”

Clint expelled a breath. “Seems like Thor wouldn’t stand for that.”

Loki’s face - whole body - tightened. “It isn’t up to him.”

Yeah, okay. That made sense. Still...it sucked. And he hated that he felt that way.

“And what about the other questions,” he said. “The ones about me.”

Loki pressed his lips together again.

“Come on,” Clint said. “What do you have to lose? If you’re going to die in a few days anyway, you might as well tell me.” No answer, again, and Clint was about to say something else when Loki spoke up.

“You fought back,” he said flatly. “And you were kind.”

It took Clint a second to parse what Loki was saying. Then: “what, really? That’s _all?_” Loki shrugged in a barely noticeable movement. Clint stared at him. “A lot of people fought back.”

“Hand to hand,” Loki said. “When you must have known there was no use.” Clint stared at him. That just sounded like proof he was weak, or stupid. Not exactly favorable qualities. Loki exhaled quietly and then said, “I can respect persistence. Defiance in the face of impossible odds.”

He fell quiet. Clint still couldn’t stop staring at him. “Huh,” he managed finally. Loki huffed a soft and nearly soundless laugh.

The other thing..._you were kind. _Fuck. So he hadn’t been so off the mark there.

“Did you know what I’d do,” he said. “That I’d figure it out, that you were trying to sabotage the mission, that I’d give you a chance to back out?”

Loki’s head turned infinitesimally away. “No.”

So he’d just...let Clint go. No plan, no expectation of quid pro quo. Because Clint had been _kind. _What did that even mean? What did Loki think had been so _kind, _when he hadn’t even had a choice-

But he had had choices. He’d chosen to break off and go after Loki on his own. He’d chosen to try to remove the stitches. Offered to help him rebel.

“Are they still in your head?” Clint asked. “The people that sent you here?”

Loki’s jaw tightened and his eyes shuttered like someone had drawn the blinds. Clint glowered at him without thinking. “Come on. Why won’t you say? Can’t be because you’re protecting them. And like I said, if you’re gonna die anyway...you might as well give us the information. Consider it revenge.”

His breathing was shallow, Clint realized. Like he was holding off panic. Barely.

“They fucked you up bad,” Clint said, his voice a little quieter. “And they cut you off because they’re throwing you to the wolves. Is that it? They figure you’re dead and don’t want to risk anyone following a line back.” Loki gave him a startled glance and he shrugged. “It’s what you do when an agent gets burned. Or what some people do.

“Might be,” he said carefully, “if you said something...maybe you don’t have to die. Make a plea deal for information, for flipping on the bigger fish. That’s a thing, here.” Loki’s lips twisted and he didn’t reply. Clint grimaced, squeezed his eyes closed and opened them. “Come on,” he said, and hated the slightly wheedling note in his voice. “If they’re not listening anymore…”

Loki closed his eyes. His mouth tightened and then relaxed.

“Turn on the cameras,” he said, voice somehow even rougher than before.

Clint froze and stared at him, taken utterly off guard. “What?”

“Turn them on,” Loki said. “I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

Oh. Oh, fuck. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. I’ll...do that.”

Loki opened his eyes, and very suddenly he didn’t look hostile at all. Just deeply, profoundly tired. “You are right, after all,” he said. “I have nothing to lose.”

Shit, Clint thought. _Shit._

He was going to have to keep Asgard from killing Loki, wasn’t he. Somehow. He was going to get in the middle of that. Because he really was _that stupid._ Just because Loki, the Loki who had invaded his mind and turned him inside out, was tired and scared and desperate and when Clint had given him an out he’d taken it, even if he must’ve known what would happen, that either way he was going to wind up dead, either from his brain exploding or executed at home. And he’d still done it.

_I can respect persistence. Defiance in the face of impossible odds._

Jesus Christ. Natasha was going to kill him.


End file.
